Lesson Learned
by truthandfireworks
Summary: Set in GOF: Harry loses the map to Professor Moody and asks the twins to get it back for him. What Fred finds when he steps into the office is not what he expects. R&R, thanks!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Potterverse.

--

"What do you mean 'he took the map'?"

"Harry, please say this is a joke-"

"Surely, you jest-"

"You are too funny, Potter-"

Harry shook his head feebly, "I wish I was joking." He sighed and rubbed his face in frustration, "He took the map and it's in his office."

Fred and George looked at each other and then back at Harry.

"Harry, we gave you the map to keep it safe," George tugged on his hair, "not to get it snatched up by another teacher!"

"I know, I know," Harry paced, "I'm sorry."

George threw Fred a look, which Harry knew was their way of communicating without speaking. A sort of telepathy they shared when they would scheme or mock someone. Private conversations were of the utmost importance and where else to have them than in your connected brain?

"We'll get it back for you, Harry," George beamed.

"It'll cost you, though," Fred grinned.

"Anything," Harry pleaded. "I'll sing your praises, I'll carry your books, I'll even test out your candy!" Harry needed their help more than anyone else's. He knew the last time they were in possession of the Marauder's Map, they had stolen it from Filch's office. And, in comparison, Mad-Eye Moody, even with his freakish eye, didn't stand a chance against the plotting duo.

"Well," George started.

"I think 'Potter Approved' candy could sell quite well, George," Fred grinned wickedly, clapping a hand to Harry's shoulder. "You've got yourself a deal, Harry."

Harry felt slightly relieved, breathing lighter. He knew he was on Fred and George's good side, he didn't worry about them going against him. Besides, with the Marauder's Map in danger, Harry found it difficult to believe that Fred and George could focus on anything other than getting it back in their possession.

"Fantastic," Harry smiled. He could have hugged them both right then and there, but he knew, just from the look they were sharing, that he was not to interrupt. He waited patiently for what seemed like hours upon hours until, finally, they nodded in unison and looked back at Harry.

"Take a seat, Harry," Fred motioned to the sofa. Harry sat on the couch, accompanied by the twins, one on each side of him. "It's simple," Fred started. "All we need is a little lie."

"That shouldn't be too difficult for you two," Harry laughed. "You two are the biggest pair of liars I know."

"That hurts, Harry-"

"Stings like salt on a wound-"

"Maybe you should get your own map back-"

"After all, it was _your _responsibility-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry hid his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, please help me."

The twins exchanged menacing grins, "Don't worry, Harry-"

"We just like making you squirm."

Harry laughed nervously, "Alright, a lie. What sort of lie?"

George leaned in closer to the table in front of them, drawing out a list of things to do with his finger against the warm oak. "A simple lie. Assignments, test results, extra help, ponderings of the universe and it's mechanics," George smiled. "Anything."

"One of us goes in," Fred leaned in from the other side and drew a stick person against the shimmering table. "Get the map when Mad-Eye's distracted, pop in, pop out – it's simple."

Harry looked at the fingerprints left on the table, "Don't you two need a distraction?"

Fred laughed loudly, "When you look like us, Harry, your God-given facial features and striking physique are all the distraction you need."

"You don't think Mad-Eye will catch you?" Harry asked, looking at both the twins. "I mean, the man is, erm, well…"

"Psychotic?"

"Insane?"

"Looney?"

"Crazy?"

"Any of the above mentioned," Harry sunk back into the couch. He tried his best to visualize how their heist would unfold. He saw a twin with a roll of parchment, sitting down in front of the desk, and waiting for Moody to turn around or leave the room briefly before snatching the map back. It went smoothly in his head, however; Harry was nervous at the real life threats that the twins would face. Deduction of points, detention – what if they got expelled? Harry wouldn't be able to deal with himself if he was the reason why the Weasley twins were to leave Hogwarts forever.

"Don't worry, Harry," Fred sunk back and looked at Harry. "I've got this all planned out. George wi-"

"Oh no, twin-of-mine," George laughed as he turned around to face the other two. "With you planning this, it will pose major threats to the success of this mission."

"Oh, I see," Fred crossed his arms. "Alright then, brother-dearest, what is the plan?"

"Well, Fred," George smiled. "You get to be the star of this one."

"Fantastic."

--

Fred clutched his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook under his arm as he loosened his tie. There was no point in looking professional after class, it seemed pointless and this being Fred's last class of the day, he found it comforting to relax on his uniform.

_Remember the plan._

Fred walked up to the front of the room, scratching his head nervously, "Er- Excuse me, Professor?"

Mad-Eye turned around swiftly, his heavy foot stomping loudly. "Yes, Mr. Weasley," he growled in his usual, meant-to-be-pleasant tone. "What is it that you need from me now?"

Fred looked down nervously to make sure his foot was not close to being stomped on, "I think I need some extra help," he smiled as warmly as he could. "I am determined to make my stunning spells more effective," he rubbed his neck, "you know, make them more powerful."

Mad-Eye nodded curtly, "When shall we meet, then?"

Fred shrugged, "I'm done for the day as of right now," he checked out the window to see where the sun sat in the sky. "I'm available from now until dinner and after that I'm available too."

"Good," Mad-Eye patted Fred hard on the back, causing Fred to almost fall over from the sheer force. "I look forward to teaching you a thing or two about spells, Mr. Weasley."

--

Fred knocked nervously on the door of the office. "Professor?" He pressed his ear against the door and could hear the shuffling around of footsteps and the frantic opening and closing of drawers. Fred laughed to himself, thinking of Moody prancing around his office in a tizzy, trying to make everything perfect for an outsider to come visit. He pictured Moody stumbling around the office, cleaning up bits of parchment that he had ripped up from plagiarized assignments and setting the pieces on fire. He would just leave the ashes there as a reminder of what he accomplished that afternoon, and then next class would just sprinkle into the lap of the unsuspecting student.

It wasn't until Fred heard a groan of pain that he began to worry, followed by a loud crash. He took out his wand and with a simple "Alohamora!", Fred unlocked the door and pushed his way inside. "Professor?" he frantically asked, looking about the whole office.

At first glance, the room looked empty; nothing but books that stacked up to the ceiling and the faint glow of the evening from the window. Fred looked around the room, wand at the ready, in case there was some sort of magical beast that had attacked his professor. He walked around to behind the teacher's desk and was confused as to what he saw.

A body lay sprawled out on the ground, as if in both pain and exhaustion. The figure wore all of Moody's clothes, however, in his hand there was something that Fred would not have imagined seeing in his wildest daydreams. _Whoa, he's holding his eye!_

Fred set his wand on the desk and kneeled down next to the man, trying his best to respect both teacher-student boundaries and still attempting to help a fellow human being. He rolled the man over on to his back and was startled at what he noticed. This wasn't Mad-Eye Moody – not even close. Certainly, it didn't look like him when he was lying down face into the ground either, but nonetheless, the difference was shocking. Fred staggered back, bumping into a trunk, which upon contact, began to scream. Fred jumped back, surprised to hear a trunk start to scream. He looked around the room, expecting to be ambushed by yet another surprise. He walked into a chair and fell into it sloppily as he watched the man behind the desk rise.

"You're… not Moody," Fred said slowly.

"Excellent observation, Mr. Weasley," the man brushed himself off. "I'll be sure to write home to your parents to tell them what a bright young pupil you are."

"I'm clever," the insulted ginger said, rubbing his arm nervously. "Erm, look, this is obviously something I wasn't supposed to see-"

"Mr. Weasley," the man sat in the chair behind the desk. He grabbed Fred's wand which lay on top of the oak desk and pinched it between his fingers. "Fredrick-"

"Excuse me," Fred scoffed. "No one calls me that."

"I would call you 'Fred' or 'Freddie', as George does," the man laughed, twirling Fred's wand between his fingers. "But I believe 'Fredrick' got your attention better. That is what I will call you and that is what you will respond to if you know what's good for you."

"If I know what's good for me?" Fred said, eyeing his wand. "That's mine."

"Fredrick, this whole playing dumb act," the man said sliding Fred's wand between his fingers. "It may fool everyone, but I know a thing or two about being something you're not."

"Obviously," Fred rolled his eyes slightly.

The man rested his elbows on the desk, grinning slightly, "My, my," he played with Fred's wand leisurely. "Snarky today, aren't we, Mr. Weasley?" He stuck his tongue in his cheek to keep from laughing, "The only way you ever let anyone see how smart you really are – by insulting them. How un-Gryffindor of you."

"Are you implying that I am a bad Gryffindor? Because, I will have you know that-"

"I think you harbour many Slytherin qualities," the man said, inspecting Fred's wand. "Are you seriously considering giving your final examinations with this wand?"

"Yes, I am, it has worked all my other years," Fred shook his head, trying to keep up with the changes in conversation. "If you don't mind me asking, who exactly are you?" He watched the mysterious person rise and walk over to the front of the desk, leaning up against it.

"Fredrick, if I told you, that would open up a nasty can of worms, don't you think?"

"Well, it's not like you're not going to obliviate me anyway," Fred said looking the man up and down. "I mean, really, student walking in on a teach transforming from a Polyjuice potion – you would be stupid to trust anyone to keep that a secret for long."

The man waved his wand and Fred heard the door lock. He waved it again, mumbling an incantation under his breath. "I suppose you are right, Fredrick." He man crossed his arms, holding both his own wand and Fred's. "I am not Professor Moody-"

"Thank you," Fred huffed. "I think I gathered that on my own." Fred stood up, brushing his uniform off, "I would like to know your name and why you are here."

"Say it with some authority, Fredrick," the man smirked. "Say it like you really mean it."

"I don't take instruction from my professors," Fred laughed, stepping closer. "What makes you think I'll listen to someone impersonating one?"

"Perhaps I was mistaken," the man handed Fred his wand. "You're either brave enough to be a Gryffindor or you really are unintelligent enough to try to challenge me magically."

Fred took his wand out of the imposter's hand, "I'm intelligent enough to know that if I were under Polyjuice, I would keep a store stocked for all sorts of situations, unlike yourself. Seems that you are the unintelligent one," he smirked, wand at the ready.

"I don't think twelve OWLs is anything to scoff at, Fredrick," he watched the ginger boy stand, ready to fight.

"Twelve?" Fred lowered his wand slightly. "Twelve OWLs? Hmm," Fred rubbed his neck with his free hand. "Percy got twelve too."

"Fascinating," the man said, totally unenthused. "How many, out of curiosity, did you receive?"

Fred shuffled uncomfortably, "OWLs really weren't my thing-"

"Oh Fredrick," the man pouted in mock disappointment. "It's not the OWLs that are your problem," he smiled. "It's your constant determination to be something you're not."

"Says the man who won't tell me his name," Fred laughed coldly. "What does it matter about my OWLs?"

"What did you receive your OWLs in, if you did receive any?" the man asked smirking. He watched Fred stalk across the room angrily, pointing his wand into his chest.

"Tell me who you are or I go straight to Dumbledore," Fred whispered threateningly.

The man laughed and whispered back, "Fredrick, you came here for a lesson," he peeled Fred's wand off his chest and raised his own. "And a lesson you will learn."

Fred raised his wand again, "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"You said after class today that you wished to know how to make your stunning spells more effective," he smiled. "I will show you a different spell, a far more useful spell." Fred raised his eyebrow, as if to prompt him to continue. "Well, Fredrick," he flicked his wand. "I am talking about the Cruciatus Curse."

"That's an Unfor-"

"Yes, yes," the man said, still smiling. "A minor technicality. Would you like to know how to use it?"

"Absolutely not," Fred said, hands on his hips. "I would rather be hit with it than learn how to hit others with it."

"Come now, Fredrick," his grin growing wider. "Do you really want me to hit you with a Cruciatus?"

"I stand by what I said," Fred said, putting his wand on the ground.

"What a good little Gryffindor," the man flicked his wand, sending Fred writhing to the floor. He lifted the curse after only a few moments. He bent down next to Fred's heavily breathing body, "How was that, Fredrick?"

Fred reached for his wand and jumped on top of the stranger, straddling his hips, jabbing his wand into his chest, "Maybe I lied."

The man squirmed under Fred's weight, his eyes widening in mock adoration, "What a good little Slytherin." He grabbed on to Fred's hand and jabbed his wand harder into his chest, "You have to mean it, Fredrick."

Fred struggled against his grasp. His grip was firm and there was no getting free. Fred knew he had to cast the curse to even have a chance at an escape, "Crucio!" he said loudly, sending the man beneath him into a fit of violent shaking and suppressed yelling. He let go of Fred's hand slightly, giving Fred the opportunity to break free of his grasp. He went to stand up quickly, when he realized his legs were being held on to.

"One more, Fredrick," the man panted. "Just one more."

"Let go of me," Fred shoved the stranger's shoulders into the office floor. "I don't want to have to do it again."

The man bit his lip, running his hands further up Fred's thigh. Fred jabbed the wand harder into the man's chest, making the stranger laugh quietly, "Fredrick, I didn't know it would be this easy to get you using Cruciatus. Had I only known, we could have skipped that whole conversation beforehand an-"

"Let go of me," Fred demanded, voice shaking slightly. "I promise I won't say anything, but please, just let me go."

"Fredrick, I need to make sure I can trust you," the stranger pulled on Fred's tie and whispered into the twin's ear softly, "I'm going to tell you my name."

"I don't care," Fred wiggled. His main goal was to just get out of the office all together. The stranger pulled him in closer, his warm breath against Fred's cheek.

"My name, Fredrick, is Barty Crouch Jr."

Fred froze, still leaning in, feeling the soft panting against his skin, "Why did you tell me that?"

"Well, Fredrick, it's simple," Barty said whispering softly, "now you can't tell anyone what's happened and if you do, I'll know it was you." He let go of Fred's tie, allowing the twin to straighten up and stumble to his feet.

"Couldn't you have just obliviated me?"

"No," Barty said, half-grin spread upon his face, "where would the fun be in that?"

Fred grabbed on to his head, pacing around the room nervously. He recalled the night that he and George had eavesdropped on the trio, hearing them discuss Barty Crouch Sr and his son. And at the time, he didn't care – he had nothing to worry about. But now! How could he possibly deal with knowing this? He had to go every one of those Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and look at that Polyjuiced face without saying a word. Knowing full well that if he said anything, anything at all, he would be killed.

"Now, Fredrick," Barty strode over to the desk triumphantly. "What's the lesson we learned today?"

Fred looked at his wand and back to Barty. He could send him flying back and possibly stun him long enough to get help. But his three OWLs which Barty had attempted to bring up in conversation haunted his choice. "How to use the Cruciatus Curse."

Barty laughed as he sat back behind his desk, "Lesson of the day: trying to steal from a professor is foolish; trying to steal from a professor like myself? Life threatening."

He huffed immaturely, "How did you know I was here to steal something?"

"Because Fredrick," Barty said folding up the Marauder's Map, stuffing it into a drawer, "I'm brilliant."


	2. Chapter 2

Fred stumbled into the Gryffindor Common Room, hair disheveled, rubbing his forehead. He avoided the usual slue of "Hi Fred!" and "Fred, Fred!". He waved weakly to some fifth year girls he had spoken to the day before. He could barely recall the conversation, his body still shivering from the Cruciatus.

"Freddie!" a voice Fred knew he couldn't ignore called out from the dorm.

Fred waved lamely, "Georgie!" He walked as quickly as he could to the dorm room. He wanted nothing more than to flop down on his bed, draw his curtains and pretend nothing had happened. Pushing past George was not his smartest idea as his twin followed him to his bed.

"Well, Freddie," George beamed. "My theatrical genius, where's our map?" George watched as Fred threw himself in his bed, fully clothed in his uniform and pulled the covers over his head. George sat on the edge of Fred's bed and rubbed his back, "What happened?"

_Professor Moody is actually Barty Crouch Jr, he performed the Cruciatus Curse on me, I did it back to him and now I can't tell anyone because he'll kill me otherwise._

"Nothing," Fred huffed into his pillows. "I'm just tired."

"That Moody," George tutted, patting Fred on the back. "Did he give you a hard time?"

"Yeah," Fred sighed. Fred found it unnerving that he could lie without lying. "Yeah, he taught me some really intense stuff." He rolled over, his hair now sticking up in all directions, he poked his head out from under the covers, "I think I just wanna nap for a bit, Georgie."

"What did he do?"

"Just some spellwork."

"You're not a prissy wizard, Freddie-"

"I'm just tired, Georgie-"

"Didn't he have chocolate on him?"

"That was more of a Lupin thing-"

"I think it should be more of an everyone thing," George nodded. "Chocolate's a wonderful motivator."

Fred laughed weakly, "Sure is, Georgie."

After George left for dinner, Fred drew his curtains shut and lay back against his mountain of pillows. Every moment in that office seemed to be replaying itself behind Fred's closed eyes. He tried his best to fight his exhaustion, trying to keep his eyes open so as not to see the office present itself before him, but try as he may, Fred couldn't win against his physical tiredness.

His sleep was disturbing, a continuation of what could have happened in that office had he stayed longer – had he been forced to stay longer. He dreamed he was thrown against the bookshelf, a copy of some sort of heavy textbook crashing against his head, causing the room to blur.

"_Stop," he whimpered, tears forming in his eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore." _

_Barty bit his lip to keep from grinning, "Fredrick," he whispered into the twin's ear, "you forgot to say, 'please'". _

"_Please stop," Fred whispered back. "Please, I'm tired." He felt Barty's hand press against his shoulder for stability._

"_Tired, Fredrick?" he said in his mock-concerned voice. "Pity, I was just starting to truly enjoy myself."_

Fred awoke with the sound of 'Fredrick' ringing in his ears. He rubbed his face to make sure he was fully awake and poked his head out of his bed.

He had slept through dinner and the return of the boys to the dorm. He didn't feel rested, but he must have slept at least three hours. Lee snored lightly from the other side of the room. Poking his head around, his eyes fell upon a sleeping George who had sprawled himself out completely in his bed. They were all asleep, and sleep was the last thing Fred wanted to do.

Without disturbing anyone else, Fred grabbed his shoes and slipped them on quietly. He tiptoed to the door, making sure no one was stirring as he opened the door slowly. Slipping past the heavy door, Fred shut it quietly and proceeded to the Common Room, where he heard familiar voices whispering.

"Oi," Fred called out to the three figures by the fireplace. "What are you lot doing awake?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all turned to see the still-clothed twin.

"Well," Ron started slowly.

"Why are you still dressed, Fredrick?" Hermione asked in her wishing-to-be-authoritative voice.

The flinch at the word must have been noticeable.

"No one calls him that, Hermione," Harry scolded her. "Everyone knows he hates it."

"Well," Hermione huffed. "It's his _name._ He'll just have to get over it."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You know, Hermione, I'd be careful if I were you."

"Harry's right," Ron pitched in. "I wouldn't eat, drink or breathe anything close to him or George now." He studied Fred's pained expression, "They'll be out to get you now."

"Yes," Hermione shook her head. "But I'm brilli-"

"I'm going out," Fred interrupted her, walking towards the door.

"It's past curfew!" Hermione snapped.

Fred turned around just before exiting the room, "Then shouldn't you be in bed?" He looked out into the dark corridor. Just past the portrait of a woman reading some strange, leather-bound book, there was a tapestry which Fred knew lead down to the kitchens. Having missed dinner, he thought it to be the perfect idea to go down to the kitchens, grab something quick to eat and sneak back to bed. The only difference this time through was that there was no George to watch behind him.

Jogging as quietly as he could down the dark hallway, Fred glanced over his shoulder every few paces, just to be sure he wasn't spotted. Grinning at his new found system of sneaking out, he quickened his pace, staring back just in case and- _thud._

A voice grumbled close to Fred's ear. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Fred's body froze, hoping he would be semi-disguised by the darkness, Fred tried his best to change his voice to sound like someone else – anyone else. "Yes, I suppose I should be," he said with a much lower voice than he had expected to come up with.

Silence filled the dark corridor, the only sound Fred could recognize was his breathing. He wished his mind was playing tricks on him and it was just Snape. Snape he could deal with no problem, Snape was a piece of cake – Snape was a nap in the dungeons, because Snape had finally smartened up and given up on the twins completely.

"Shall I escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," the voice asked. "Or shall you find your own way back," the voice laughed quietly and whispered in Fred's ear, "Fredrick?"

Fred's heart sank to his feet, his throat went dry, "I'll go back myself, thanks." He pushed himself off the man everyone thought was Moody's chest and turned to walk back when he realized his wrist had been grabbed.

"Now, now, Fredrick," the voice whispered softly. "Did you really think you could break curfew and not suffer some sort of consequence?" He pulled him to his side, "Now, I know you're not doing anything right now," he lead Fred past the Gryffindor portrait. "Ten points from Gyffindor and detention."

"Detention?" Fred croaked out as he passed the portrait. "What sort of detention?"

"You ask too many questions," he grumbled in response. "You should seek answers, not ask for them."

"You should be in Azkaban," Fred hissed, tugging back on his wrist. "Not teaching."

"You seem to have many criticisms of me, Fredrick," he said almost cheerfully. "Tell me more about what an _awful_ person I am."

Fred scoffed, "That just boosts your already bursting ego." He felt as though he was being dragged for floors upon floors. "Question."

"What did I say about you and questions?" he snarled.

"How are you Moody again?" he quickened his pace to keep up. "I mean, I assume you only knew it was me because the map told you."

"No," he mumbled. "I knew it was you because George is smarter than to go out this late."

"So now I'm the stupid one?" Fred asked, tugging on his wrist again.

They stopped in front of a dark door, "Funny," Moody's face split into a grin, "I thought that's what you wanted everyone to think. Good old Fred Weasley – the dumb twin."

"I'm not dumb," Fred snapped.

"I told you that before," he said smugly. Fred noticed Moody's hair was slowly turning into Barty's. "I need you to steal for me from Snape." His hair was starting to change colours, "Shouldn't be a problem for you."

Fred swallowed hard as he opened the door to Snape's ingredients closet. If there was one lesson he had learned today, it was that stealing from a professor is foolish.

He just knew disobeying this one would be life threatening.


	3. Chapter 3

_Lacewing flies, er... leeches… You know, if he wanted someone with experience to get this for him, he should have asked Harry._

A soft tapping noise filled the small area of the closet. Fred turned back to see the now fully un-Polyjuiced Crouch standing behind him, tapping his wand against the stone wall. "Fredrick, do you not have any idea what goes into this potion?"

He snorted, "It's not like I'm the one who makes it everyday," he reached for the Sal Ammoniac, wobbling slightly on the stool. Fred swallowed hard when he felt two hands grasp his hips.

"The last thing I need is you cracking your skull open," Barty mumbled under his breath.

"It's funny," Fred passed him down the bottle of Sal Ammoniac, "it's almost as if you care."

"Of course I care," Barty laughed. "I don't need any sort of evidence that anyone's ever been here. A concussed twin on the floor does not make for a clean theft."

He nodded as he turned back around, "All done," he smiled. Now, Fred Weasley was not a stupid boy. He knew that helping a Death Eater by stealing from a professor's private stores so that he could continue Polyjuicing and posing as another professor and Auror was not the _brightest _of ideas, however; he also knew that by _not _helping, he would play victim to yet another night of Cruciatus, something Fred would do anything to avoid.

Barty let go of Fred's hips and inspected their stolen stash of ingredients, "Fredrick, you're missing the skin of boomslang."

Fred spun around quickly, too quickly, and swayed alarmingly backwards. Knowing he couldn't make a sound, Fred clasped a hand over his mouth and waited to collide with the stone floor. He was only half-surprised when he felt two arms catch him less than half way down.

"Fredrick, you ought to be more careful," Barty hissed in his ear. "You're going to get us caught."

He turned his head to look at Barty, "You know, you could get this yourself. You've obviously done it before. Why won't you do this yourself?"

"Just get me the boomslang," Barty pushed Fred back up into a standing position and grabbed his hips again. "And try not to die this time, Fredrick."

Fred reached up and grabbed the necessary ingredient, "I don't plan on dying any time soon." He spun around slowly at looked at Barty, "I'm going to open a shop with George and we're going to be rich as kings and you will most definitely not be invited to the opening night festivities."

"Pity," Barty said flatly.

"I'm going to live a lot longer than you'd think," Fred beamed. "Me, George, the shop, adventu-"

"Thrilling," Barty said flatly again. "Truly riveting," he rolled his eyes. "Now, here, let me," he half-lifted, half-dragged Fred off the stool and set him to the ground. "If you plan on living so long, the last thing you're going to want to do is crack your head open on stone."

"How nice of you to care that my demise should be more interesting than rocks," Fred huffed as he grabbed his half of the ingredients.

The pair poked their heads out in opposite directions, "See anyone?" Barty whispered.

"No," Fred whispered back. "On three?"

"On three."

"One-"

"Two-"

Suddenly, soft footsteps could be heard from down the hall. They were growing louder with every step. Barty turned to Fred, slight panic in his eyes, "We're going to get caught. Fredrick, I can't get caught."

Fred threw Barty a cocky grin and pulled him down the hall in the opposite direction.

"Fredrick," Barty hissed quietly. "This is no time for you to play the hero." Before he could register what exactly was happening, Fred stomped on the foot of a statue of an old, hunched man and watched as the statue slid back quietly.

"Shut up and climb in," Fred said, ushering Barty into the secret passage. He hopped in after Barty had slid down successfully and landed in front of the Death Eater, a winning beam spread across his face. "You don't have to thank me."

Barty glared at Fred's lack of worry, "That was an unpleasant situation."

"And I got you out of it," Fred continued beaming. "You owe me."

"Owe you?" Barty asked, walking down the secret passage. "What could I possibly give you to- do you want higher marks?"

"No," Fred jogged to catch up. "N-no," he started slowly. "I want you to Obliviate me."

Barty stopped dead in his tracks, "I'm afraid I can't do that, Fredrick."

"Why not?" Fred asked, his voice cracking slightly. This wasn't fair. He had kept his secret, he had stolen for him, he had saved him from being caught. The _least _he could do was let him forget this ever happened. Fred couldn't bare the idea of sitting in class beside George, in front of Crouch and trying to explain to George why he looked so pale, or why he was so quiet. George would figure it out, well, he'd figure out something wasn't right. He'd question what happened in the office and he would, if he felt it truly necessary, make Ron go tell Harry who would go straight to Dumbledore with the matter.

And for some strange and twisted reason, Fred didn't want Dumbledore to know.

"You're involved now, Fredrick," Barty grumbled, as if he hated the fact just as much as Fred did. "Even if I did try to wipe your memory, someone would notice. George or your other brothers, your sister, your friends – someone would notice something was wrong."

"Oh," Fred snapped. "As if they won't be able to tell something's wrong now?" Fred walked in front of Barty and pushed his ingredients into Barty's hands. "You owe me and-"

"And I'll make it up to you," Barty said, raising an eyebrow and pushing the ingredients into Fred's arms. "Where does this passage take us, Fredrick?"

Fred walked silently, knowing if he were to speak, he would say something he'd regret.

"Fredrick, I would like to know where you are leading me," Barty said coolly, trying to catch up with Fred's pace. "Fredri-"

"Shut up and walk," Fred snapped. He continued walking angrily, but his expression was now one of worry. Having said what he just said, Fred might have offended Barty which would end poorly for Fred, however; Fred was carrying Barty's precious supplies. If he were going to send a curse Fred's way, he would be hurting himself in the process.

Barty ran past Fred and placed the ingredients to the side. He stood in front of Fred, hands on his hips, lips pursed into a straight line across his face, "Fredrick, have I, in some way, upset you?"

Fred bumped into Barty's chest, a vial of something poked into his ribs. "Oh," Fred laughed sarcastically. "No, whatever would give you that impression?"

"In all honesty," Barty took the ingredients from Fred's arms and set them aside. "I wouldn't want you upset," Barty rubbed Fred's arm, the softness of his sweater tingling his palm. "It might ruin my cover."

Fred stared blankly at Barty.

"I'll carry the ingredients," Barty sighed. "Will that make things better?"

Fred crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, "Why are you doing this?" He watched as Barty bent down and picked up all of his supplies.

"Well, I figured your arms were get-"

"No," Fred shook his head slowly as he walked with Barty down the corridor. "All of this," he waves his hand around in the air, "the whole… Death Eater… thing."

"I don't think I have to explain myself to you, Fredrick," Barty snapped, picking up his pace. "Where does this lead me?"

"You're not going to Obliviate me, are you?"

Barty turned around sharply, "Where. Does. This. Take. Me?"

Fred sighed as he turned around to walk back to the dungeons, "Up by the Charms classroom."

"Where do you think you're going?" Barty snapped again, a solid tone of frustration in his voice.

"I'm going to bed," Fred yawned. "It's late, it's past curfew. I've done enough to get me expelled tonight," he stretched. "I'd say it's a good time to call it a night."

"How am I supposed to know you're not lying to me and this leads straight to Dumbledore's office?" Barty asked, frustration turning into panic.

Fred shrugged, his cocky grin plastered on his face, "You've got my map."

"I'll give you back your map if you walk with me to make sure this doesn't lead me to getting caught," Barty sighed. "Although, this map of yours, it's not yours."

"No, it's-"

"The Marauders," Barty sighed. "Went to school with them, you know."

Fred's jaw dropped, "Did not."

"I did so, Fredrick," Barty started walking down the hall. "They were quite the team, those Marauders," he turned around and grinned at Fred. "But, if you'd rather not hear about my lowly Hogwarts days, I suggest you get to sleep, Fredrick. You've had quite the night."

Fred dragged his tired frame to catch up with Barty, "I suppose someone's got to make sure you don't get caught."

Barty smirked as he walked straight ahead. "Exactly, Fredrick," he said without turning his head. "You're so clever."


	4. Chapter 4

Barty slammed the door behind Fred, "You lied." He grabbed the necessary provisions from Fred's arms and put them on his desk. He leaned against the edge, his breathing uneven, "You said it came out beside the Charms classroom."

"Yes," Fred said, mid-yawn, "looks like I made a mistake."

"I see what you're doing," Barty gripped the side of his desk tight, his hands starting to cramp under his force. "You're trying to get me caught," he turned to look at Fred, resentment in his eyes, "aren't you, Fredrick?"

Shaking his head, his eyes growing wider, Fred protested, "N-no, I wasn't, I just got mixed-"

"Mixed up?" Barty finished spitefully. "Funny how your little mix up lead me right to McGonnagal's office."

"I didn't remember!" Fred yelled back. "Look, if I really wanted you gone, I would've said something as soon as I saw you lying on the floor when I first found you. But did I?" Fred ran his hands through his hair, his disheveled hair looking even more ridiculous.

"No," Barty snapped. "You wanted to make it a big production, didn't you?" He let go of the desk and walked towards Fred, "You wanted to have that moment, didn't you? Where everyone in the school looked upon you as a hero. Where every single living, breathing thing in this school knew you as a hero." He stood in front of Fred, arms crossed, the grin on his face sent shivers down Fred's spine, "You wanted to make this a show at my expense, didn't you, Fredrick?"

Fred shook his head again, but it was no use; Barty had no intention to start believing him.

"This is why I don't trust anyone, Fredrick," Barty took out his wand. "Trusting people leads to disappointment."

Taking a step closer, arm outstretched, Fred reached for Barty's shoulder, "Please, believe me. I … I don't want …"

"Don't want what?" Barty pulled back, letting Fred's arm slip off his shoulder. "Didn't want me to get caught?" Barty laughed loudly, "Oh Fredrick, I understand why people would let you become as popular as you have," he tried to finish his thought between fits of laughter. "You really _are _hilarious, you know."

"Thank you," Fred said, helping Barty stabilize. "But I'm not trying to be funny." He helped Barty over to a chair, making sure he was properly seated. "I don't want you to get caught," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Barty sprang up in his seat, leisurely playing with his wand, "Why not, Fredrick?"

"I don't know," Fred replied lamely. "I just… I don't want you to get caught."

"You should go to sleep, Fredrick," Barty watched as Fred's shoulders crumpled from lack of sleep, his eyes growing heavier. "Come on," he stood up, putting an arm on Fred's back, "are you alright to walk by yourself?"

Fred yawned, tired tears escaping from the corners of his eyes, "To be h-ho-" he yawned again.

Barty pulled Fred closer, "H-Here, let me," he took Fred's arm and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll walk you back as far as I can, alright?" Fred nodded sleepily; he had stayed out past curfew before, but it was nearly three in the morning and he had an early class this morning. "Don't bother coming to class tomorrow, alright, Fredrick?" Barty pushed the door open and walked him down the steps to the classroom, "I'll just be talking about-"

"Wait a second," the tired twin interrupted.

"Yes, Fredrick?" Barty weaved them through the desks. "What is it?"

"What am I supposed to call you when it's just you and I?"

Barty laughed lightly; a genuine, sincere laugh, "You expect to be seeing me like this more than just tonight?"

Fred shrugged, "Do I call you 'Barty'?"

"You can call me 'Barty'," he nodded poking his head out to see if the corridor was deserted. "That'll be fine, Fredrick."

--

Fred slid into his seat beside George, bags under his eyes. "Why didn't you wake me up?" he hissed.

"You just looked _so _darling, all sprawled out and asleep," George laughed. "You were like a ginger sleeping beau-"

"I get it," Fred replied flatly, adjusting his sweater. "Still," he huffed. "You could have-"

"So nice of you to join us, Mr. Weasley," a voice grumbled from behind him.

Fred turned and looked at the person everyone else called Professor Moody. "How could I possibly refuse your charming company, Professor?" The class burst into fits of giggles.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Mr. Weasley," Moody laughed. "And five more for your snark." His lips pursed into a straight line across his face, "Perhaps it will adjust that attitude of yours."

Fred leaned his head against his books, his eyes drooping slightly in the semi-relaxing position. If this was how it was going to go, being too tired to have to lie to anyone about knowing Barty's secret, then he figured he could spare some points for general sass. He knew Hermione would be Gryffindor's saving grace in some other class going on at the same time and that his sass would only balance out her know-it-all attitude.

"Unforgivable curses," Moody wrote on the board. "Who can name the three unforgivable curses?"

Fred's head shot up from his books.

"Ms. Johnson, you seem to know at least one," Moody said, chalking waiting to go at the blackboard. "Let's hear one."

"Imperius?" she asked, half-knowingly.

Moody jotted it down haphazardly on the board, "Anyone else?"

George beamed and put his hand up, "The good ol' AK!"

"That is inappropriate for a classroom, Mr. Weasley," Moody shook his head in a disappointed manner. "but yes, the Killing Curse." The man at the front of the room stared at Fred, "How about you, Mr. Weasley? Know any sort of Unforgivables?"

Fred managed to choke out, "Cruciatus" before too many people noticed the pause before his answer.

The rest of class went the same way. Fred tried to not realize that all the Cruciatus-based questions were mysteriously ending up his responsibility. He deliberately answered questions wrong – he didn't want to be pegged as the kid in class who had a hankering to know all about Cruciatus because, well, he didn't!

"Mr. Weasley," the professor called out at the end of class.

Both twins spun around and answered in perfect unison, "Yes?"

Moody pointed to Fred and George slapped him on the back, "If something bad happens, you know what to do."

Fred walked up to the front of the class, books under his arm, his hair already a mess.

"In my office," Moody's body, but Barty's voice demanded. "Now."

--

"I told you not to come to today's class," Barty said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Specifically because of this. I told you not to show up to cla-"

"Barty?" Fred asked, not being able to look Barty in the face.

"Yes, Fredrick?"

"Did you only pick on me today because of what happened yesterday?" he whispered into his hands as he rubbed his face.

Barty tilted Fred's chin up and shook his head slowly, "No." Barty pat down Fred's hair as best as he could, "For someone as clever as you rave about, George makes some poor choices."

"He just thought I needed cheering up," Fred mumbled quietly, averting his eyes from Barty's. "He didn't mean it like that."

"Even so," Barty replied, following Fred's gaze. "Fredrick, look at me, please." Fred turned his head and matched Barty's gaze, "I'm sorry."

"For what, exactly?" Fred asked, gripping his book tighter.

"For today's class, for last night's mishaps, for…" Barty shook his head, "for everything."

"Oh," Fred nodded. "You're forgiven."

"It's just that I- pardon?" Barty's jaw dropped slightly.

Closing his eyes, Fred wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, "I forgive you," he yawned lightly, "for everything."

"Fredrick, you should go back to sleep," Barty could feel Fred falling asleep against his hand. "I can polyjuice back into Moody and walk you to Gryffindor Tower and-" he stopped talking as soon as he realized that Fred's breathing had transformed into soft snoring. Barty tilted Fred's head into what he hoped would be a comfortable sleeping position.

_Blanket. He'll need a bl- book! Oh, he has a book. Brought his book for the first time in weeks. To the class I specifically told him not to attend, hooow charming, Fredrick. _

He took the book out of Fred's hands and placed it on the desk behind him, "You look like your favourite colour would be green, Fredrick." He whispered quietly as he ran behind his desk and took out a soft green blanket. He tucked it around Fred's sleeping form, "I know you're a Gryffindor, but I couldn't be bothered to change the colour." He fiddled with Fred's hair until it was just so.

_Besides, you look good in green._

--

Rubbing his eyes to get rid of that extra bit of tired, Fred found himself in a room he didn't recognize. He stretched and looked out the window; the sun was low in the sky, he had slept away the majority of the day.

"Where-"

"Fredrick?" a voice spoke softly from the other side of the room.

Shaking his head to get his eyes to focus to the dim light of the room, Fred squinted and asked into the haze, "Barty? Where am I?"

Barty rushed over to Fred's side, "Do you need help getting up?"

Fred shook his head and threw off the covers, alarmed to see he was no longer wearing his uniform, "What is-"

"Room of Requirement," Barty grinned proudly. "You required a place to sleep, so it provided you with the perfect sleeping conditions for you."

"My clothes," Fred started slowly.

"Oh!" Barty's proud beam grew as he took out his wand. "Twelve OWLs. I transfigured your uniform into a pair of pajamas."

"That's…" Fred looked from himself to Barty to the rest of the room, "Why are you doing all this?"

Barty shrugged, "To show you that I am sorry."

"But I forgave you," Fred smiled as he looked around the room.

Barty nodded and followed Fred's gaze, "Yes, well." His eyes dropped from the high ceilings of the room to the high cheekbones on Fred's face, "I just wanted to make sure you knew."

Fred's gaze fell on a plate of food, "Is that for me too?"

Dashing over to the table, Barty carried the plate over to Fred, "Would you rather eat in bed or at a table or standing or-"

"Thank you," Fred smiled warmly at Barty.

"There's really no need to thank me, Fredrick," Barty waved his hand in Fred's face.

"There's also no need to apologize anymore," Fred picked a grape off the dish. "Have we got a deal?"

Barty reached over and grabbed a banana and peeled it happily, "Sure, Fredrick."


	5. Chapter 5

"You sure you're alright?" George turned over in his bed and faced Fred. "I've barely seen you around lately."

Fred nodded. It was true, the last time they had spoken like this was over a week ago. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Georgie," Fred lied convincingly. He tapped his forehead, "We've spoken though-"

"Not nearly the same-"

"I know, I've just been busy-"

"Doing what?"

"Just school stuff."

"Fred," George sat up in his bed and looked at his twin. "I've known you since the womb. You've _never _cared about schoolwork and now, all of a sudden," George rubbed his arm as if he had been punched, "now you're more into schoolwork than Granger is."

"Never-"

"Are so-"

"Take that back immediately-"

"I cannot take back a fact. There is no fact shop to which I can return it-"

"You liar-"

"Lying about a fact shop? Possibly. The point is," George sighed. "The point is that I just wish you'd tell me what was going on."

Fred rubbed his face nervously and took in a deep breath, "Just doing extra research for a product that I wanted to surprise you with." Lying to George felt wrong all over. His heart sunk, his head spun and his hands shook, but there was no way he could tell George now.

_You know Professor Moody? Funny fact: he's actually Barty Crouch Jr. Haha! How funny is that?_

"Oh," George beamed. "What were you working on?"

Fred forced his most convincing beam, "If I tell you, Georgie, twin-o-mine, then it won't be a surprise."

--

Barty sat on the edge of his desk. "I'm afraid that I don't understand."

He didn't look up from the floor, "George kept asking me all these questions." He shook his head, "I didn't tell him anything," he looked up at Barty, "you're secret's safe."

"Oh," Barty nodded slowly. "W-Well, thank you." He chewed on his bottom lip and walked to the bookshelf, "Must be difficult not telling him."

Fred leaned back in his chair, "You have no idea." He stared up at the ceiling, tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair.

"Fredrick?"

"Yes, Barty?"

"If you don't mind me asking," Barty walked over to Fred, a book in his hands. "If you're so concerned about George being so concerned, why are you here right now?"

Fred sat up, "Well, if I didn't tell you why I couldn't, you know, why we couldn't talk and stuff like this," he pointed between them, "I was worried you'd… well, I was worried you'd suspect I told someone about you and that I was avoiding you."

Flipping through the pages of the book, Barty smiled softly, "Fredrick, you are so smart." He looked up at Fred, smile fading, "But, you're right. You shouldn't see me anymore."

"I shouldn't?" Fred furrowed his brow. "But…"

"I could Obliviate you," Barty motioned to his wand with his thumb. He laughed spitefully, "It'll be like this never happened." He heard Fred mumble something quietly. "Pardon, Fredrick?"

"I don't want you to," he mumbled louder.

Raising an eyebrow, Barty walked over to Fred and pulled him into a standing position, "Why not?"

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes, "Because I don't want you fiddling around with my memories."

"Ah," Barty nodded. "So, you would rather go through everyday of the rest the of the year knowing that a Death Eater has successfully taken up a teaching position at Hogwarts?"

Fred laughed lightly, "I've said that since my first class with Snape, greasy git."

Barty did his best to hide his grin, "You're very quick, Fredrick." He watched as Fred ruffled his hair, making it stick up in all directions it possibly could. "It… it upsets me to know that this is," he stuck out his hand, "goodbye."

Fred stuck his hands in his pockets, "I'll say goodbye when it's time to say goodbye." Fred walked over to Barty's desk and hopped up on to the edge, "Right now we have to devise a clever scheme in which you and I can still talk without looking suspicious."

"Fredrick, I don't understand," Barty ran his hair through his hair. "And I am a rather brilliant individual. I don't understand why you don't just leave."

Kicking his feet against the solid oak desk, Fred shrugged, "I think you need someone to talk to."

"I have plenty of people I can talk to," Barty huffed.

"Then a friend," Fred said slowly. "I think you need a friend."

--

Barty whipped his wand high above his head. "A friend?" he laughed coldly. "Oh, Fredrick, I should've known better than to trust you." He swung his wand down and disappointedly muttered, "Crucio."

He bit his hand to keep from screaming too loudly. Tears ran down his eyes; this was far worse than the first time. This wasn't threatening; this was pure, uncut anger. "Please," he croaked out. "Let me explain." He felt the bottom of Barty's shoe on his shoulder, turning him over on to his back.

"Explain?" Barty laughed. "Explain. You want to explain to me how George-"

"He doesn't know," Fred sobbed, his tears running down the side of his face and landing in the rug. "I didn't tell him anything."

Barty paced around Fred's shaking body. "So, Fredrick, it's just a coincidence that George would compare Moody to a Death Eater?"

"Yes," Fred whispered. "It was supposed to be a joke."

"A joke?" Barty kneeled down beside Fred, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. "I don't believe you, Fredrick. I'm sorry." He jabbed his wand into Fred's chest, "Crucio." He pet Fred's hair as he watched him squirm in pain. "I am sorry, Fredrick," he whispered. "But you're not trustworthy." He lifted the curse and watched as Fred's body shook.

"It was supposed to be a joke," Fred sobbed. "It was only supposed to be a joke. I swear, I didn't-" Fred's face suddenly went pale. "S'a joke, I swear. S'just a joke," his voice trailed off as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Wide eyed, Barty looked at the ginger laying on his floor. "Fredrick," he stroked his cheek softly. "Fredrick, wake up." He pat him on the cheek gently, "Come on, Fredrick." He shuffled over to Fred's head and propped him up on his knees. "Come on, Fredrick, wake up."

Barty swished his wand and a vial of potion flew into his hands. He drank the potion quickly and began to transform into the famed Auror. He rested Fred's head on the floor as he grabbed another vial and hurried out into the hall.

"Professor Moody," he heard a woman's voice greet him. He spun around quickly and saw Professor McGonagall walking towards him. "You seem distressed."

"Mr. Weasley has gone and fainted in my office," he grumbled.

McGonagall's eyes widened, "Which one?"

"Fred," Moody replied. "Could you alert Madame Pomfrey that we'll need a bed for him?"

She nodded and turned in the direction of the Hospital Wing. "Do you need assistance getting him there?"

Moody waved his hand. "He's a lanky thing. I can manage on my own."


	6. Chapter 6

Fred's eyes adjusted to the strange, dim lighting of the Hospital Wing. He turned and looked out the window; the night had smote the sky with stars and a perfect crescent moon. He mentally connected the stars to spell out his name. The 'F' didn't really work out, and he liked the 'E' too much to sacrifice it and turn it into his 'F'.

_The trials and tribulations of Fred Weasley._

Eventually, he gave in, finding no other way of making his 'F'. And, as he decided in his half-asleep-state, _'RED' is not as good as 'FRD'._

Pomfrey was convinced that Fred hadn't eaten enough in the past few weeks and the malnutrition had finally caught up with him. Not quite, but Fred had no intention of arguing the nurse into believing that he had actually been the victim of a blind Crucio rage.

Right, by the teacher who isn't really a teacher. Right, can't forget that.

George had sat with him as long as he could and, although Fred welcomed his twin's company, he secretly wished that George would leave so he could finally ask Barty if he was finally satisfied. George answered most of the questions this afternoon, despite knowing nothing himself.

"_Fainted?" George scoffed at a group of first year students. "Fred nearly died fighting for the safety and well-being of this school!"_

_The first years stepped closer to Fred as if he were an exhibit at the zoo._

"_Don't crowd the man, Merlin," George huffed. "Can't you go bug Harry? He is the Boy Who Lived." _

"_He said he has a roll of parchment due for Potions tomorrow and-"_

"_Off with you, you grubby little sods," George spooked the first years to run out of the infirmary. Laughing at his own genius, George sat down in the chair beside Fred. "The whole school seriously thinks you almost died, Freddie. How good are we? I mean, in two hours, people will think you were battling Death Eaters and saving the school." _

"_Imagine that." _

He closed his eyes and sunk into his pillows. They smelled like the Hospital Wing. If you were to smell this smell anywhere else in the world, you would know that it was from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's infirmary. Fred thanked Merlin that it didn't smell like those Muggle hospitals his father used to ramble on about smelled. Disinfectants and rubber gloves could not be the best smelling combination in existence. He buried his head deep into the fabric and breathed it in, trying his hardest to fall asleep again.

But there it was. Again. The stinging pain in his body. A dull sensation that lurked beneath his skin and itched to grow stronger. Closing his eyes and reliving what had happened, seeing Barty's eyes, his _grin_ – it made Fred hurt just to think about it.

_It could have been worse. He didn't rip you limb from limb. _

And somehow, Fred felt that it would have hurt less if he had done so. Foolishly enough on Fred's behalf, he half-trusted Barty that they would be amicable, if not possibly friends. Death Eater-ing and Cruciatus addiction aside, Fred found Barty to be rather good company. Excellent, company, if he really thought about it. They talked about all sorts of things: school, students, teachers, traveling, their fears – anything a normal, platonic relationship would consist of.

Well, a normal, platonic relationship between a Weasley and a Death Eater, anyway.

Fred would humor himself sometimes and think of how Ginny felt when conversing with Tom Riddle's diary. He would jokingly think of it as a Weasley weakness – the dark side. Something lurking in the shadows just waiting to jump out and attack you from all angles. Something that would kick you off kilter and send you sailing, tumbling down a flight of stairs into a cold, dark cellar. Any normal person would turn around and walk back up the stairs. Fred liked to think that a Weasley would try to find their wand and cast some light into the dark room. Trying to find something to take back with them when they have to leave.

Fred's only worry now was that he had possibly taken too much for him to carry.

--

"Must have been very nice to have someone rush to your bedside with whatever you asked for just because you fainted," Lee sighed dramatically as he gazed into his textbook. "Maybe I should stop eating for weeks-"

"I wouldn't recommend it," Fred laughed as he flicked tiny pieces of paper over at George. With a flick of his wrist, George sent them careening back at Fred's face. "It's not as servant-like in the Hospital Wing as you would think."

"Then I don't think they're doing their jobs," George slammed his fist on the long table in a fit of mock rage. "I demand better health services!"

The three boys laughed into their breakfasts and books, praying that by some divine power, Potions class would be cancelled.

It wasn't.

--

"Late again, Mr. Weasley," Moody didn't even look away from the board as he jotted down the lesson.

Fred cringed. "Sorry, Professor."

"Gryffindors," the teacher turned around on his metal heel. "I think his tardiness has cost you enough points. How shall he be dealt with?"

"Detention!" The majority of the class groaned. They didn't honestly care, they just didn't need more points being taken away.

Fred shrugged. "The masses have spoken."

"You will see me after class to discuss the parameters of this detention, Mr. Weasley."

Fred gave a small, sarcastic salute. "Yes, sir, Professor Moody, sir."

--

"Cheeky," Barty threw his feet up on his desk. "You think you're rather clever, don't you?"

Fred leaned over the desk and grinned. "I think you sort of find it endearing."

"Not at all, Fredrick," Barty threw his head back and laughed. "But it does put on a good show."

"People will talk," Fred sat in his regular chair. He only found it slightly strange that he had a _usual chair_ in Barty's office. "Word travels quickly here."

"Yes, I heard you died saving the school from a pack of Death Eaters and Salazar Slytherin back from beyond the grave." Barty wiggled his fingers in sarcastic little waves of fear. "How brave of you, Fredrick."

"I should go sort that out and tell them what really happened," Fred laughed lightly. "The lie is probably more believable than the truth."

"Always is, Fredrick. You'll learn that soon enough."

Fred sat back and laughed quietly to himself. Barty watched as his shoulders moved quickly up and down, his hands slowly reaching for his face and sliding unforgiving down his face, lightly slapping out a rhythm on his cheeks.

"Something's wrong."

"You're not going to apologize, are you?" Fred smiled angrily.

"Why would I go and do something of the sort?" Barty dropped his feet to the floor and turned to face Fred. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Really?" Fred laughed louder. "So, using an Unforgivable Curse on a _student _while impersonating a _professor _and _famed Auror_isn't wrong?"

Barty shrugged. "Depends on who you ask." His slight grin didn't go unnoticed. Fred's slight eye roll was taken into account. And yet, they sat in silence, waiting for one or the other to point out the other's reaction.

"This is a rather boring detention," Fred smirked. "I was expecting Imperius this time around."

The slight hesitation in the Death Eater didn't go unnoticed either. "I'm afraid not."

Not wanting to upset Barty, Fred smiled softly and asked, "Then what are we going to do tonight?"

He leaned over just a bit, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Lots you can do in a dusty old castle, Fredrick."

"Oh," Fred raised an eyebrow. "I think I would know a thing or two about … a thing or two."

"I figured you might," Barty stood up slowly from his seat and walked to the front of his desk, crossing his arms and leaning against the edge.

Fred propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and pressed his fingertips against each other. "I'll be sure to think up something fun for us to do to pass the time."

"Keep talking like that and people will talk," Barty smirked.

"They already do."

Fred stared up at Barty; Barty gazed back down at Fred.

"They do?"

Fred leaned back in his chair and bit back a grin, "Depends on who you ask."


	7. Chapter 7

Secrets are funny little things. You can keep anything secret, absolutely anything. A favourite food, a favourite song, a guilty pleasure, a name, a face, a place – all secrets. You can keep someone's secret safe; you can pretend it never happened or you can just not stop thinking about it. By someone telling you to keep a secret for them, they entrust you with a tiny little piece of them. Well, depending on how large the secret is. See, sometimes a secret, a few tiny words strung together into a sentence, could be the thing that keeps someone alive. And them telling anyone that, anyone other than themselves in a dark room, is the most giving and vulnerable they will ever feel. It's like they gave you a map to their brain and heart and are now letting you explore their every waking thought and emotion. It's the most terrifying thing in the world, a stupid little secret.

Unless it's kept.

A kept secret is like an operation. After someone digs around for Merlin knows how long, grinding against your bones with sharp instruments and shaking hands, they remove two things. The first is your pain and your suffering, because now you are not alone in what you know. You can converse with someone, you can share the burden. The second thing they remove is your security, because as nice as it is to tell someone how you feel, you will always be kept wondering if they had shared with someone else, just so they didn't have to feel so alone.

--

"Alright," he said excitedly. "Open your eyes!"

George nearly fainted. "Blimey, tell me that is not real, Fred."

Laughing, Fred plopped down beside George, shoving his wrist under his twin's gaze. "No, it's not real. It's fake and it tastes awful and-"

"So, my surprise, the one you were working on before, is an Edible Dark Mark?"

Fred grinned triumphantly. "Pretty brilliant, don't you think?" He brought his wrist to his mouth and licked it, laughing at George's reaction. "What?"

"Well, two things," George pulled Fred's arm away from his mouth. "One, what flavoring did you use, exactly?"

"Black licorice," Fred beamed. "The most evil of all candy items."

"No arguing with that," George nodded. "Second of all-"

"Mhmm?"

"The art is-"

"Mhmm?"

"Well," George let go of his twin's arm. "Do you have an un-licked one? You smudged this one."

"Erm, I think so?" Fred bent over and reached a hand into his never-ending bag of tricks. He pulled out a number of things: two ink bottles, a quill, six rolls of parchment, a small box filled with what George knew were emergency fireworks and – finally – another box with a small Dark Mark sketched out on the lid.

George took the box from Fred's hands and inspected the lid closely. "Now, I am no expert in Dark Marks," he laughed as he traced out the pattern with his fingertip. "But that is a very detailed Dark Mark."

Fred shrugged, leaning back in his seat by the fireplace. "A little research and artistic license goes a long way, Georgie-"

"Freddie, that is insulting to your genius. Why, Voldemort himself should take it upon himself to distribute your new, fancier looking Marks-"

"I can see it now. Some dark, cold room and a bunch of Death Eaters just lining up for me to sketch it out on their arm so Voldemort can give it the okay-"

"They'll wait for hours to be drawn on by the mind behind the Mark-"

"It'll be like an autograph. I'll be like Lockhart-"

"Wouldn't doubt it," George laughed, sticking his own Dark Mark on to his wrist. "Your ego is about as big-"

"Says you-"

"Says mum-"

"What does mum know about either Lockhart or myself?"

"Well, she gave birth to you and she is infatuated with Lockhart-"

Fred nodded curtly. "Okay, well, perhaps you have a point."

--

"Mr. Weasley," a now-familiar voice grumbled.

Fred turned around, his complete ease into the situation was flawless now. He didn't even flinch or try to hide a grin. He grinned for the sake of looking like a hero to his peers. To put on a show and take attention away from the man posing to be their professor. He did it to keep Barty safe. "Yes, Professor?"

"George!" Moody bellowed.

"George?" the slightly higher pitch in his voice was noted by a few Second Years who tried to hide their giggling. "Why George?"

"Yes," George pointed to Fred. "Why me?"

"Yes, why George?" Fred asked, his voice definitely more shrill than intended.

"With me, Mr. Weasley," Moody turned on his heel and walked away.

"I-"

"But why?" Fred asked. He stared at the back of Moody's head. "I don't understand. Why _him_?"

"I hardly think that is your concern," Moody snapped. The tone in his voice surprised Fred. Yes, they had argued in his other form before, nothing out of the ordinary.

This, however, was different.

Their usual banter lasted for a bit, making Fred seem like a hero to his fellow students and look noble by taking detention after detention on their behalf. He could be sarcastic and a little cruel, but with a quick look, he sent out a message that was encrypted in his smirks and eye rolls: 'you're safe'.

This, however, was different.

His eye roll would usually be matched with a grumble or growl and a threat to have his hair singed off ("Would I really do it, though?" Barty would laugh. "It all depends on how I'm feeling when you decide to act like a prat"). And this time, there was no threat. No underlying-but-obvious-as-to-what-they-mean messages. This was secretive and cruel and everything else Fred could think of that was negative.

And he wondered why he cared so much. Why it mattered that a teacher and his twin were going to speak without him. Not even that – he knew it couldn't be anything serious. George wasn't Fred and Barty had only told Fred. He didn't even really tell him, Fred _found out_. Fred found him and spoke with him and was attacked and tortured and manipulated and blamed and picked on. Fred was all those things, but above all, Fred was the only one that knew.

His thoughts slammed against his mind all afternoon. All throughout dinner. All evening. And with every slam of worry, Fred could only wonder: _Where's George?_

--

The door clicked and Fred bolted up in his bed. "Where have you been?" He had practiced sounding worried, but only sounded angry.

"Detention," George grumbled and threw himself into bed, his shoes still on his feet. "Bloody detention with that bloody git." He shut his curtains and threw the covers over his head. "I don't understand how you're still alive and walking, Freddie, I honestly haven't a clue."

"What did he do?" Fred pushed through the curtains and whispered to George. "Tell me what he did."

"I'd rather not," George mumbled into his pillow.

A strange pang hit Fred's stomach like a punch or a quick, clean stab. This is how it had started with him. Late nights, exhaustion, not wanting to speak. The detachment, the half-mumbling half-hoping no one understood. The stomping around the room, the drawing the curtains, the shoes in bed. This is how it all had started with Barty and himself.

"Tell me," Fred's voice sounded more demanding than sympathetic.

"Just had a weird night, alright?" George snapped and pushed Fred lightly off his bed. "I'll tell you later."

He shook his head. "No, I think you should tell me now."

"Good night, Fr-"

"George, just-"

"Good. Night. Fred."

George shut the curtain again and Fred stood there, looking at the pattern on the curtain. It was old and an awful colour and why was this bothering him so much? It was just a detention, it was stupid, it was just late and George didn't want to talk and why was he putting on his trainers? Ridiculous, really, being so worried about just a stupid old detention. Sometimes they went later than expected, he had legitimately been held around until nearly one in the morning for some detentions.

No big deal.

--

"What happened tonight?"

Getting to Barty's office and knocking on his door and storming in and raising his voice were all sort of a blur to Fred. His hand tousled his ginger hair feverishly, as if rubbing his scalp could somehow stimulate his brain into figuring this all out.

"Whatever do you mean, Fredrick?" Barty's nonchalance was about as bad as the smirk on his face.

Fred grabbed Barty by the shirt and slammed him against his bookcase. "Tell me what happened." He could have broken Barty's nose for that smirk. That stupid smirk that he knew for a fact he was only wearing to make him angry. That stupid smirk that made the difference between acceptable and non-acceptable. That stupid smirk that he could have wiped off his face with his bare hand.

He grabbed Fred by the shoulders and pulled him close. He could feel his freckled cheek against his cold one. He could smell the faintest combination of clean clothes and gunpowder and his eyes fell on that hair that entranced him so. His breath felt hot against Fred's skin and he felt the ginger stir against him. "George did exactly what I needed him to do."

"Oh?" Fred rammed Barty's back against the shelf again. "And what was that, exactly?"

Barty's fingers lazily threaded into Fred's soft ginger hair. It felt softer than it had looked and Barty tugged on it lightly, pulling Fred closer still. He breathed heavily against Fred's neck and cheek and felt his breathing quicken in anticipation. "Oh, Fredrick," he whispered softly into Fred's ear. "Your delightful brother," Barty's tongue flicked against Fred's earlobe, "did exactly as he should have." He felt Fred turn his head and sigh quietly against his skin.

"And what could that have been, Barty?"

He flicked his tongue against his earlobe again, flicking it into his mouth and gently biting down on it. Fred's meant-to-be-quiet gasp escaped him suddenly and Barty felt his smirk grow on his lips. Breathing uneasily and pressing himself harder against Barty, Fred closed his eyes and relaxed against the other form.

"He was the catalyst, Fredrick."

His hand, as if on its own, slid up the skin of Barty's soft neck and into his tattered and unkempt hair. It wasn't dirty, it was just soft and it felt like too much pressure would pull it out in clumps. Fred's finger twirled a strand lazily, feeling the tips of Barty's hair slip smoothly against his skin. "Catalyst?" Fred had nearly forgotten they had been having a conversation. So much was going on; his hair, his ear, his skin, his heartbeat – feeling loud and bright. Sparks flying from words and breaths and, _Merlin, is that my heartbeat?_ coupled with _Is that his heartbeat?_ "Catalyst for what, exactly?"

_The patch of skin right below his ear has eight distinct freckles. _And Barty wondered why he cared about their existence at all. He shouldn't, he had better things to think about. Like the downfall of that bothersome Potter and the rise of the Dark Lord and not being caught posing as a professor and Auror. That was supposed to be all that he cared about, all that he needed to focus his energy on. Getting Harry through the tasks and making sure that no one figured out his disguise.

But they did. One person did. Accidentally. It was all an accident. He didn't mean to lose consciousness that night. He didn't mean to have guests that night, but since someone had asked and that someone seemed to care about their studies (Although, after a while, he learned that wasn't true) he obliged. And maybe that's where his plan went wrong. That plan he had made since he stepped foot in the school – Get in, Get out. There was nothing in his plan about helping others or being the best professor he could be. He loved to show off – that's why he chose to be a professor. Simply so he could show everyone just how brilliant someone could be, even if they weren't an Auror. Of course, posing as an Auror did dampen the overall affect, however; he knew it now that even an Auror could be outsmarted by the 'regular person'.

And now, this 'regular person' was being outsmarted. But by someone they had never expected to outsmart them. Someone who, to everyone else, was loud and obnoxious and cruel and unforgiving. But to him, to him it was different. He was smart and quick-witted and of course he would be obnoxious and when he laughed at his fullest, he did get very loud, but it was different. It was something that only he knew, something Fred didn't want the whole student body of Hogwarts knowing.

It was his secret.

"B-Barty?"

He swallowed nervously. "Yes, Fredrick?" He felt Fred turn his head and gasp lightly as his hair was tugged. He couldn't help but grin at the sound; he had made him do that, that was his fault. And it didn't hurt or sting or bruise or anything. He wanted this. He traced the tip of his finger along Fred's jaw, leaning his forehead against Fred's. He nudged his nose against the freckled nose in front of him. "Fredrick?"

"I-"

"Yes?"

And he pulled back and shook his head. "I should go." Fred's hand shook as it let go of Barty's hair and ran quickly through his own. He stared at the floor, his eyes shut as if he were wincing in pain.

Not caring if his disappointment was clear or not, Barty sighed. "Maybe you're right." His stomach twisted gently as he noticed that Fred wasn't leaving. He stood there, perfectly in place, staring at the floor between them. "Fredr-"

"I could be wrong," Fred lifted his face, his ears burning. His cheeks tinted a slight pink that clashed horribly with his hair.

Barty nodded. "Could be, yes." He tilted Fred's chin up to meet his gaze. "You could be right."

Fred's hand found the back of Barty's head again, his fingers twirling his weathered hair. He laughed lightly, the air barely passing his lips. "This is-"

"Wrong?" Barty's arm wrapped around Fred's waist and pulled him closer.

"Mhmm-"

"And you should leave-"

"Mhmm-"

"And this could only end poorly-"

"Mhmm-"

"So, if you know this, why are we-"

"I don't know, I just-"

"Fredrick?" Barty whispered, their foreheads leaning against each other.

Fred smiled, his ears burning hot. "Yes, Barty?" He felt Barty's hand run up his back and rest on his neck. His mind could register the sensation briefly before Barty's lips covered his own. Fred felt as though all the air in his body had been squeezed out his ears and his head spun from the contact. Even with his best efforts, Fred found he couldn't help but moan quietly against Barty's lips. The vibrations against his skin forced him to pull him closer, feeling the strangest need to be touched. He felt Barty's tongue lick slowly against his lip and gasped loudly and welcomed the new sensation of Barty's tongue exploring his mouth. Barty's mouth tasted of old wine and sleepless nights and what Fred could only assume was the slightest hint of Polyjuice. As his tongue slid across Barty's at a painfully slow rate, he heard and felt Barty groan beneath him.

Fred tasted the exact way Barty had imagined he would. Not to say he had been imagining it for ages, or that it was on his mind all that often, but when it did cross his mind, this is how it would have been. Like candy that fizzes in your mouth mixed with carbonated beverages and careless napping and a slight hint of black licorice. If he hadn't been so focused on Fred's gasps and moans and where his hands were and where he wished they would go, then he would make some sort of remark about it. Instead, he tugged at Fred's hair and slid his hands under his shirt and scratched lightly at his lower back. With each light scratch of his skin, Barty could feel Fred pushing himself harder against him. He sucked Fred's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently and listened to Fred's breathing growing rapidly faster. "Barty," he moaned with such urgency that Barty all together forgot that it was actually him making Fred this way.

"F-Fredrick," he pulled away reluctantly. He kissed the corner of Fred's mouth and turned his head away when Fred tried to kiss him back. "You should go."

Fred nodded. They had crossed a line. A very important line. More important than just teacher-student relations. As if one secret wasn't painful enough to keep, this just added more to the complexity of their other secrets. "Y-You're right," he nodded again, letting go of Barty's hair and his hip. "Am, er, am I supposed to thank you or something?"

Laughing, Barty pulled Fred close for one last kiss to his forehead. "You can thank George for that."

"Probably should, yeah," Fred smiled. He flattened out his hair and adjusted his shirt. He turned for the door, Barty just a step behind him. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Fredrick."

"Good night, Barty," Fred smiled hazily.

"Good night, Fredrick," Barty laughed, flattening out the stubborn strands of Fred's mop of ginger hair.

"Sweet dreams," Fred sighed happily. "That is, unless Death Eaters can't have those. Then… then I suppose you can't and just-"

"You too, Fredrick," Barty leaned against the door frame and grabbed Fred's hand. Pulling him close for one last quick, soft kiss on the cheek. "Now get back before I take away points."

Fred smirked and turned to leave. "Spoilsport." He hopped down the stairs and disappeared out of sight, and, presumably ran back to his room without getting caught.

Closing the door to his office, Barty sighed and wondered how this could end. He was smart enough to know there would be no happy ending. It would have to end just as abruptly as it started. A quick goodbye, a snarky remark and then moving on with their lives. He was planning on killing Fred's friend. Someone Fred actually respected and cared for. It was his job to assist in the downfall of the precious Harry Potter. There was no room for extra emotions or complications.

"That does it then," Barty mumbled quietly to himself, turning his chair to face out the window. "It all has to end."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and reads :D To show my thanks, I have decided to whip up two mixes for you guys! (Obviously for this ship).

mediafire. com/?nnwg1dgkgyw

mediafire. com/?fmdmmome5i2

So, again, thanks so much for sticking around and putting up with this fic! Who knows, maybe it'll get as good as you guys think it is XD

3 Ariana

--

Unfortunately, for Barty, he found it rather difficult to end whatever was going on between him and Fred. It was not unfortunate in the way that one would assume. One would easily be lead to assume that, perhaps, the reason why he found all this very unfortunate was because he would get caught.

And, at first, yes – to assume that would have been correct. To assume that Barty feared for his life would have been correct. To perhaps entertain the thought that he was worried what the Dark Lord would have done to him if what he was doing was exposed would also be right.

Shockingly, Barty found the relationship unfortunate for Fred.

He knew full well that, of course, Fred Weasley being 'Fred Weasley' meant that he did not mind sneaking out to meet with him or getting in trouble or any of that.

"_Ba-" Fred was pulled behind a tapestry as a hand clasped over his mouth. "Mmphmmphaphh."_

"_What?" Barty whispered, laughing slightly._

"_Get off me, you sod." Fred pushed Barty into the stone wall and slammed his body against the other form. _

_Groaning out, Barty grabbed Fred's hips tight. "That h-mmph." Before he was rudely interrupted by Fred grabbing the back of his head and kissing him quiet, Barty would have stated that slamming people into walls was both painful and poor manners. And as Fred's hand slid down his shirt front and under the fabric, his initial thought was completely put out of his mind. Fred's fingers slid slowly beneath his waistband and, with a hint of nervousness, wrapped around him firmly. "F-Fredrick," he gasped quietly under the ginger's ear. _

_Grinning victoriously, Fred moved his hand back and forth, stroking him slowly and licking along his neck at an agonizingly slow rate. "You know," he whispered hoarsely, "I was thinking about this earlier today-"  
_

_Hiding his face in the crook of Fred's neck, Barty groaned in response. "Uh huh." He felt Fred's nails drag lightly upwards and out of his trousers. He felt Fred turn his head and his warm breath made contact with the skin against his cheek. _

_Fred kissed from Barty's jaw to the corner of his mouth and smirked. "You always did say I had quite a mouth on me." _

"_Quite a-" And his voice caught in his throat as he watched Fred drop to his knees and wink up at him. "I… umm… I…"_

_Cocking an eyebrow, Fred started to undo Barty's trousers. "Alright then?"_

"_A-A… A-"_

_He pulled down his pants and massaged Barty through the remaining fabric. "I'll take that as a yes." As he slammed Barty's hips against the cold, stone wall, Fred felt the air around them explode with a sensation he had never felt before. He looked up at Barty, still flexing his fingers around him and improvising the best way to remove the last piece of clothing. Gripping Barty's hips tighter, Fred leaned up and grabbed on to the remaining waistband with his teeth. His breathing quickened as he lowered himself and pressed a hot, branding kiss against Barty's skin. A sharp tug on his hair indicated to Fred that whatever he was doing, he must have been doing it correctly. _

_Streams of bright purple and yellow and pink seemed to appear in front of Barty's eyes at the slightest touch from Fred. The constant reminder that he had to breathe was menacing to Barty because he wondered if it took away from the overall sensation of what was happening to him. He felt heat radiating through him and he choked slightly on his breath when he felt the warmth of Fred's mouth around him. It had been ages since someone had touched him, let alone touching him for his pleasure's sake. He pressed his hips closer to Fred and shook with a blast of foreign sensations that seemed to pulse through his body. "Fredrick," he gasped, nearly forgetting to breathe again. "Fredrick, yes."_

_He slid as much of Barty as he could into his mouth, feeling lightheaded from the rush and the act itself. And with one sharp tug at his hair, Fred suctioned his lips as hard as he could around Barty, pumping his fist as quickly as he could. Barty's strangled sounding groan and fumbled speech and breathy sigh of his name sent a cold bolt straight through him that tingled from his chest to his toes. He looked up and saw Barty's eyes shut tight, his eyebrows arched higher than he had ever seen them before. His lip was swollen from chewing and biting on it so hard and his tongue rested against the back of his front teeth. _

_Barty leaned his head back, panting heavily as he slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the light. He looked down and saw Fred, still on his knees, kissing his thigh with comforting (and almost apologetic) kisses. Bending down to put his clothes back on, Barty pulled Fred close and kissed as many individual freckles on his face as he could before planting a soft kiss on Fred's lips. "Fredrick, that was-" _

_Fred leaned in and kissed him again. "Shut up and don't ruin it."_

Barty also figured that Fred, obviously, did not mind the company either.

"_What's it like," Barty asked, twirling a strand of Fred's hair and kissing out a line of freckles on his neck, "to have a big family?"_

_Fred laughed and pushed the Death Eater off him. "First thing's first, if we're going to discuss families, I refuse to partake in this sort of activity." Fred dragged Barty to a worn out chair with a high back and cracked leather. "It's sort of like, you're never really alone, but at the same time, you're not really in company, either."_

"_That doesn't make sense, Fredrick."_

"_Well, no," Fred laughed. "But think about it: if I just spent all my time with my family, that would still label me as anti-social to the rest of society." Sighing, Fred picked up a book off the floor and inspected the cover. "So, you're always with someone, but to everyone out there? In the whole world? You're still all alone."_

_Barty nodded. "I know a thing or two about being alone." He felt Fred's arms wrap around him. "Not the only child thing, I mean, maybe that's part of it, but really," Barty sighed. "Being a Death Eater doesn't make for a very wide social circle." _

_Fred snorted. "Your only friends are Death Eaters?" _

"_Well," Barty leaned in and bit Fred's neck softly. "Not all of them." _

_The ginger gasped out and grinned. "I thought I said no family talk when we-"_

"_I'm not talking about families now, Fredrick," Barty turned and sucked lightly under Fred's jaw. "I'm talking about you."_

But the most shocking of all, Barty found, was that he found himself caring about Fred's well-being. Not about his schoolwork or his safety on the Quidditch pitch, but Fred's relationship with the one person that Barty knew would always be above everyone – George.

"Fredrick," he asked, looking out over the lake under the dark shade of a tree. "D-Does George suspect anything?"

The ginger looked up from picking at the grass on the shore. "Erm, probably. Nothing about you," he reassured him. "But I think he's worried about me. I have been acting rather suspicious lately." He added to the ever-growing pile of torn up grass. "I mean, a few nights ago, he stayed up to see what time I would come back to the dorm."

Walking over to sit beside Fred, Barty nodded. "And?"

"Well, when I waltzed back in at around three in the morning, he was pretty snippy about it," Fred rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, he thinks I'm seeing someone, but I won't tell him because I think he'll make fun of me." Fred laughed a hollow, cold laugh. "He doesn't know that if I told him, I'd be putting you in danger."

"Not just me," Barty pulled up some grass of his own, adding to Fred's pile. "If anyone ever found out, I would be sent to Azkaban and the Dark Lord would be after you, Fredrick." He shook his head and looked at Fred with bewilderment. "It never occurred to you that if we get caught, you could die?"

Looking down at his grass pile, Fred spoke quietly. "Of course it has." He kicked his grass pile and watched the blades float in the breeze. "But I'm more worried about you."

And that was something Barty would never understand. Why would Fred care about him if he should have been caring about himself? Having You-Know-Who personally seek you out and try to end your existence wasn't something anyone would look forward to. Barty thought about how he and Fred had been sneaking about for two months now. How Fred never hesitated in telling him what was on his mind and how Barty truly tried to make Fred as happy as he could.

"_I got you something, Fredrick," Barty took out a small jar and smiled. "It's difficult to obtain, and it's very expensive and-"_

"_You didn't have to!" Fred took the jar and inspected it closely. "You got me ashes?" He cocked his eyebrow. "How, erm… thoughtful?"_

_Barty laughed. "It's from Peru. It's a darkness powder. No one here sells it. You're the only one with that at Hogwarts, to the best of my knowledge." _

_Inspecting it closer, Fred's jaw dropped. "Why did you get it for me?"_

_The Death Eater shrugged. "Thought you might like it."_

_Fred put the jar down on the desk and leaned over, kissing the tip of Barty's nose. "Thanks."_

_Barty smiled warmly. "You're welcome and who knows! Maybe you'll be able to afford some for the shop someday."_

_Smiling, Fred sat back down, his legs thrown over the arms of the chair. "George and I need a fortune in order to even open a place, nevermind expensive powders." He dropped the jar gently into his bag and beamed. "But maybe someday we will."_

But no. Harry Potter's demise, serving the Dark Lord – that was the main objective. There was no other objective. The Dark Lord's bidding was the only thing that was supposed to matter. The only thing that should matter. And now, Barty looked at the ginger beside him, picking grass out of his hair, wondering when in the two months Fred started to matter.

Because, really, he didn't. He was just a student attending Hogwarts. And what's worse, he was a Weasley. A blood traitor. If anything, he was just as bad as the mudbloods themselves. He was next to penniless and he had no realistic goals and he only ever caused trouble and his death wouldn't be significant by any means and… and…

And that didn't matter.

Fred once asked Barty what a Death Eater was afraid of. Barty said 'nothing'. What he meant to say was 'this right here'.

It was supposed to end two months ago. Two months ago, Barty Crouch Jr. was a highly respected Death Eater, a most loyal servant to the Dark Lord and, most importantly, an uncaring, motivated, goal-driven individual. One month and twenty-nine days ago, all that changed.

Fred had seen it progress from Death Eating villain, to untrusting imposter, to nervous wreck, to trying not to like having friends, to this. Whatever this was, Fred was happy they had reached it. Being with Barty made his chest feel funny. As if cold sparks exploded in his chest and traveled to his fingertips, tingling the whole way. As if a song had created that perfect harmony or a certain blend of flavours had turned out to be surprisingly delicious or an old, but comforting smell hits your senses and takes you back to a familiar and pleasant memory. Barty smelled of old books that had started to go yellow in the pages and whenever he smelled anything of the sort, Barty would come to mind and a slight smile would crop up. Old books and a hint of ashes from the fireplace. The fireplace he used to travel and communicate with those outside the school walls. Those who were out to kill his friend and destroy the world he loved. Those who forced Fred to keep so many secrets.

And in that moment, he realized; Barty had the ability to consume the entire Wizarding world into absolute darkness for years. With Voldemort rising and Barty having completed his task, Barty would have been the one responsible for the downfall of Harry Potter and whoever else would fall in Voldemort's way. The only thing that seemed to be stalling any of it was, in fact, him.

Whether he did it for the greater good or whether he did it because he had wanted to for ages,

Fred rested his chin on Barty's shoulder and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Barty."

Because maybe, just maybe, the one thing that could save them all didn't have to be a spell.

Barty turned his head, shaking it sadly. "Then I am truly sorry, Fredrick."

"I know you are."


	9. Chapter 9

"Cedric Diggory-"

Was the last person on Fred's mind that afternoon. His chest felt as though it was made of candied glass and that the slightest touch would shatter him open. Somewhere between the final task and right here, sitting there listening to how his peer and friend had died valiantly, Fred knew that he had been found. And instead of worrying as to whether or not he should fear for his life, Fred, instead, feared for Barty's. For Barty had told him about Azkaban and the Dementors and how there would be no happiness if he returned there and after all this time, after months of sneaking around and sharing this secret – it was over.

Barty Crouch Jr. was either cold or praying for death at this very second.

Fred Weasley was praying that he was wrong.

"_Oh Fredrick," Barty panted against Fred's chest. "Oh God, Fredrick." He thrust inside him again, gripping the desk for support. "I… I can't-"_

"_Barty, I-" Fred pulled Barty down by the neck and panted against his lips. "I-I'm going to-"_

_Catching Fred's lips with his own, Barty quickened his motions as he slid his tongue against Fred's. He felt Fred tighten and with a desperate groan, he felt Fred shaking beneath him. Grabbing Fred's hands from around his neck, Barty pinned them above the ginger's head on the unforgiving oak desk. He watched Fred's face closely as the ginger arched his eyebrows and shut his eyes as tight as they would allow him. His mouth, open to gasp for air, was curved at the edges, as he moaned out loudly. The sight alone would have been enough for Barty if he had not been so determined to let Fred climax first. _

"_Barty, I-" Fred's breath caught in his throat as his legs wrapped tighter around Barty's middle. His toes curled and his fingers flexed and every cell in his body felt as though it was shooting off fireworks. Barty continued to thrust inside him and Fred arched his back, allowing for Barty to do so harder. And within a few deep thrusts, he felt Barty shaking between his legs. He held him close to his body, his legs hitched at the feet for a stronger hold. As they both cried out, Barty let go of Fred's hands and ran his fingertips up the ginger's trembling body._

_He collapsed on top of him completely, panting heavily as he kissed Fred's shoulder. "Are you alright?" He ran his fingertips down Fred's arm and grabbed his hand. He played with his fingers and pulled them to his lips, planting soft kisses on the pads of Fred's fingers. _

"_I… feel amazing," Fred laughed quietly, looking around the office. "Never going to be able to look at this place the same way again, though." _

"_I didn't hurt you, did I?" Barty looked up, Fred's hand still near his mouth. _

_Pushing back Barty's fringe, Fred smiled. "No, you didn't, Barty." He unwrapped his legs from around the Death Eater and winked. "All that moaning was actually a good thing, you know."_

_Barty laughed as he massaged Fred's hand. "You can't take anything seriously, can you?" _

"_Why would I take anything seriously?" Fred twirled a strand of Barty's hair around his finger. "You-Know-Who takes things too seriously. Look what sort of trouble he's gotten himself into!"_

_Barty shook his head. "You shouldn't speak about him. More importantly, you shouldn't insult him."_

_Fred raised his eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me what to do?"_

"_I believe I am, Fredrick."_

_Tilting his head back, Fred laughed loudly. "You just wait. I'll come up with something that'll make old You-Know-Poo really angry."_

_Barty looked up at Fred with a blank expression. "You-Know-Poo?"_

_Fred bolted up from the desk, nearly knocking Barty down to the ground. "You-No-Poo." He beamed at Barty, laughing hysterically. "You-No-Poo!"_

"_Yes, I get it, Fredrick," Barty sighed. "Very clever."_

"_No, no, Barty," Fred gasped for air. "You don't get it. You-No-Poo. It could be a Wheezes product!" _

_Barty's expression didn't falter, though his curiosity did get the best of him. "Oh?"_

"_Yes," Fred nodded excitedly. "You-No-Poo would be an anti-laxative! It would be the… the…"_

"_Constipation sensation?"_

"_That's gripping the nation," Fred rhymed, wide eyed at its simple brilliance. "Barty, George and I are going to sell millions of these things." _

"_That is if Dark Lord doesn't find out and personally come into the shop to kill you, Fredrick."_

"_Imagine what that would do for our sales!" Fred laughed harder, his fringe falling back on to his forehead. _

_Barty looked down at the naked ginger on his desk; totally carefree and full of spirit, Barty wondered how long it would take before Fred either grew out of it or found it to be his demise. "Fredrick?"_

"_Yes, Barty?" the tone was quiet again. _

_He pulled the ginger off his desk and slung him over his shoulder. "Come on, you should do this in a bed." He grinned as he bit Fred's side. "Properly."_

_Fred dug his nails into Barty's side. "But don't you have to start the potion tonight?" _

_Barty slammed Fred on to his bed, which creaked under the extra weight of another human being. "It can wait till the morning." _

But it couldn't wait till the morning. Fred reflected on that as Dumbledore went on about what a valiant hero Cedric was. How caring and brave and smart. But Fred knew for a fact that Cedric did not earn twelve OWLs; Barty was far more intelligent than Cedric Diggory. How could he have let this happen? Did he not realize what he was doing?

Of course, Fred had thought about whether or not Barty was aware that by putting off the potion making, he was slowly setting himself up for a one-way trip to Azkaban with no possible return.

"_Choose," Fred rolled over, slinging his arm around Barty's middle. "Eating six Acid Pops or attending a lecture by Gilderoy Lockhart, pre-memory loss, on his charming smile?"_

_Barty groaned. "Not fair. Is Azkaban not an option?"_

"_The point of this game, Barty, is to choose between horrible things," Fred said matter-of-factly. "I mean, if I was going to make you choose between being a Death Eater forever or being a Muggle but staying with me, what would you choose?"_

_And in that second, Fred regretted ever opening his mouth. _

"_Fredrick," Barty shook his head. "Fredrick, what we have here-"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Well,-"_

"_Yes?"_

"_It's complicated," Barty frowned. "Because you love me and I can't seem to hurt you." _

"_Well," Fred scooted closer. "That's because you love me back, right?"_

_Again, Fred wished he had stayed quiet. _

"_Fredrick-"_

"_Oh," Fred blinked, scooting away. "I… Oh." His heart pounding against his chest, Fred threw the covers off himself and raced to find his shirt. "I should go." _

"_Wait-"_

"_What?" Fred snapped. "Worried now that I won't come back?" Fred laughed coldly. "I should've known." He threw his shirt over his head, forcefully shoving his arms through the sleeves. "You've been using me for information, haven't you?" _

"_What?" Barty sat up at once. "Fredrick, why-"_

"_All those times you asked me how my friends were and how Harry was doing with the tasks and, God, I just told you everything because I trusted you and now-"_

"_Fredrick, why would I care how Harry is doing if I am just controlling his every move in this tournament?" Barty got out of bed and stood between Fred and the door. "Fredrick, listen to me, please-"_

"_No," Fred took out his wand and held it to Barty's throat. "I'm done listening to you. I listened and I listened and I kept listening because I thought that I wasn't the only one who would say it. I thought I wasn't the only one to feel something and I was wrong and now I'm tired." Fred sighed, his hand shook as he jabbed it harder into Barty's throat. "I'm tired of listening to you. I'm tired of having to lie to George and I am tired of protecting you. I know people say I'm cruel and mean but, man, have they ever got a shock in store for them when you get to go public! Barty Crouch Jr. – Voldemort's stooge." Fred pushed Barty aside and opened the door. "I hope it's worth it, Barty. I really hope that whatever Voldemort pays you is worth it. I hope you have fun being his servant for the rest of your life, because it's obviously far more enjoyable than being with someone who genuinely cares for you." _

_And with the slam of the door, Fred exited Barty's office for the last time._

Tears streamed down Fred's face as he remembered the feeling he got when he walked back to the Common Room that night. A lump had formed in his throat and his eyes stung and then, with a slight crackling feeling, his chest started to cave in. The lump in his chest seemed to plummet to his stomach as tears filled up his eyes. Storming into the Common Room and pushing past Harry, Ron and Hermione, Fred flung himself into his room and cut the drapes. He was going to be alone. That's how he wanted to be.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, the same sort of gesture George had used that night. George smiled through his tears and nodded. "He did good, Freddie. He did good."

_He did good,_ Fred thought as he nodded back, smiling slightly.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably. _He did good_. Fred scratched his head, his hair becoming a mess. Barty _had_ done good, whether he had realized it or not. Stealing and lying and sneaking and manipulating and everything he had done that would make any regular human being disgusted, Barty had gone above and beyond the expectations.

However, between lying and cheating and stealing and manipulating, he did the one thing that most regular human beings would see as the bravest thing of all – he kept someone alive. Because, not once had Barty told Voldemort of what was happening. He very well could have. He could have had the whole situation taken care of quickly and messily at the beginning. He could have killed Fred on the spot.

He hadn't. He kept him alive. By lying and cheating and stealing and everything else he had done, Barty Crouch Jr. had spared the life of Fred Weasley time and time again.

Perhaps Barty didn't realize that he had brought so much joy to Fred and how he had opened his eyes to new ideas and extraordinary feelings. Perhaps Barty was unaware of just how much he had helped Fred along the year.

But then again, perhaps he did know.

And that perhaps was good enough for Fred.

As the student body exited the Great Hall, Fred caught up to Harry. "Sorry, mate." He wrapped his arms around Harry as he watched The Boy Who Lived burst into tears again. "I'm really sorry for everything."

"It's okay," Harry sniffed against Fred's shoulder. "I mean," he laughed feebly, "it's not like you could control any of it. No one could have."

Fred drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah," he exhaled slowly.

What he meant to say was, "I could have." And now, just by agreeing with Harry, Fred sealed the most important secret he had kept in his life – Barty's secret would always be safe, he had made sure of that.


	10. Chapter 10

The textured glass tickled the tips of his fingers. They felt cool and slightly painful when he pressed his fingers just a bit too hard against the jar. He had just sold all the Peruvian powder that the shop had to Draco Malfoy. Just as he had done a year ago. Fred wasn't stupid; he knew full well why Malfoy had needed it. He knew that it had something to do with the Death Eaters.

The pang stung him again, echoing inside the empty shell of his chest.

It had been nearly two years since Barty had been found out. Being Fred Weasley, Fred tried to move on – show off to the world how they needed to be happy and how he and his fantastic twin could help them do that. In these dark times, what everyone needed was a laugh.

It was pathetic that he had not laughed in over two years. Of course, a chortle or snort, sure. Because it wasn't as though things were no longer humorous without Barty, they were. Fred still found George's jokes to be funny and Ron's antics to be pathetically hilarious. Percy was still an easy target and poking fun at Harry was always a plus. But a true, genuine laugh – now, that was just something Fred couldn't muster.

"Just got a wedding invitation, Freddie," George walked into his twin's room, throwing an open envelope at Fred's feet. "Bill's getting married to that French girl. You know, the one," George did a mock curtsy and bat his eyelashes girlishly.

"Oh, yes," Fred sat up, putting the jar on his nightstand. "That one." He flipped the envelope open and looked at the invitation. "Looks like it's going to be nice. S'back home! Just what Bill wanted."

George took the paper from Fred and sat on his bed. "You alright, Freddie?" He crossed his legs and stared at his twin. "And don't say you are, because lying to me is pointless."

Fred picked up the jar and started tossing it between his fingertips. "Tired," he mumbled, carefully watching the jar. "Bad night's sleep."

George watched the jar his twin was tossing. "Wanna talk about it?"

Without looking up from the jar, Fred shrugged. "Not really. It's stupid, really. I don't even know what the dream is, but I wake up and my chest hurts and I feel scared." He shrugged again, shaking his head. "But I never remember what scares me."

Trying to lighten the mood, George reached over and tried to knock the jar on to the mattress. "Bollo-" the glass hitting the floor interrupted his word as the room was swallowed in darkness.

"Get out," Fred ordered angrily, his fists held tight in the blackness.

"Freddie, I'm sorry," George started. "I-"

"Get. Out."

Stumbling in the dark, George made his way to the side of the room with the door. Fred heard the door close as George went back into their living room. Swinging his legs behind him, Fred leaned over the edge of his bed and tried to find the larger shards of glass. His fingers fumbled on to a piece of glass, half sticking out of the remaining powder. He cupped it in his hand carefully and set in on his nightstand. Leaning back over, Fred picked up several other pieces of glass. On his third trip down, however, Fred felt a piece of paper in the midst of the pile of powder. Pulling himself back up, Fred grabbed the slip of paper between his fingers and felt around in the darkness until he reached the door. Opening the door wide, Fred headed down to the shop and locked himself in the laboratory. His fingers slightly itching and stinging from the glass, Fred shakily opened the piece of paper.

_Fredrick, _

_I knew what I was doing. I know you will never forgive me for it, but I apologize anyway. Whether you found this because you used all the powder or because it broke, I'm glad you found it. I wanted to thank you for everything. You taught me everything that twelve OWLs couldn't. You taught me how to trust, how to be a friend and, above all else, you taught me to love._

_I wasn't able to tell you that because, if I had, you would have only complicated the plan I had devised to keep you safe. _

_You liked to play that silly choosing game. Now, I will ask you my own._

_Choose: Keeping our secret. Or keeping yourself alive._

_I asked myself that question and I chose to keep our secret and keep you alive. I'm sorry, Fredrick, but this time, Azkaban was the only option._

_I love you, Fredrick Gideon Weasley. Not loved; I love you. I love you as I write this letter, and I love you as you read it. And I hope it shows. _

_Barty_

Shaking, Fred fell on to a pile of boxes and tried to catch his breath. After all this time, after every nightmare, after every joking "I love you, Fred!" – Fred felt the hot stab of love right in his heart. He felt the valves in his heart shut and the blood ran warm through his body. He shook, still clutching the note in his hand, and smiled. After all this time and after everything he had worried about, Fred felt as though he was back in that office. Back there with him. Laughing and joking and touching and kissing and scheming and everything. He smelled the books and he smelled the carpet and he could feel the draft from the window and everything was just as it should have been.

He opened his eyes in the middle of his laboratory, surrounded by boxes of candies and fireworks and their highest selling product to date – U-No-Poo.

Bolting up from his seat, Fred swung the door open and called up to George. "We're going to destroy that wedding aren't we?"

"Some might say that. I would say we are helping it," George called from the upstairs kitchen.

"Fantastic," Fred beamed.

--

The air exploded.

In that moment between laughing in the face of danger and fearing for his life, Fred Weasley's mind raced. People always said that their lives would flash before their eyes just before they died, and Fred had sometimes wondered what he would see.

_Fred beamed. "Now, Ron, you just have to vow to me, Fred, that you will, for the rest of your life, be my personal slave and do as I say always or face the consequences-"_

"_Consequences?" Ron cried. "Like what?"_

_The door flew open and a very angry Arthur Weasley stormed in._

--

"_Georgie, on a scale from one to ten, ten being the most trouble we've ever been in, how much trouble would we get in for stealing this weird map thing?" _

"_I don't know," George looked into Filch's filing drawer. "About a seven?" _

"_Worth it," he said, grabbing the map hastily and shoving it in his robes. _

_--_

_The Firewhiskey burned in Fred's mouth. "You want to know a secret, Georgie?" _

_Taking a long swig himself, George nodded enthusiastically. "Of course."_

"_I'm in love."_

_George fell out of his chair, giggling like mad. "Good one, Freddie."_

_--_

"_My name, Fredrick, is Barty Crouch Jr."_

_Fred froze, still leaning in, feeling the soft panting against his skin, "Why did you tell me that?"_

"_Well, Fredrick, it's simple," Barty said whispering softly, "now you can't tell anyone what's happened and if you do, I'll know it was you." He let go of Fred's tie, allowing the twin to straighten up and stumble to his feet._

"_Couldn't you have just obliviated me?"_

"_No," Barty said, half-grin spread upon his face, "where would the fun be in that?"_

_--_

"_Now, now, Fredrick," the voice whispered softly. "Did you really think you could break curfew and not suffer some sort of consequence?" He pulled him to his side, "Now, I know you're not doing anything right now," he lead Fred past the Gryffindor portrait. "Ten points from Gyffindor and detention."_

"_Detention?" Fred croaked out as he passed the portrait. "What sort of detention?"_

"_You ask too many questions," he grumbled in response. "You should seek answers, not ask for them."_

_--_

"_The Marauders," Barty sighed. "Went to school with them, you know."_

_Fred's jaw dropped, "Did not."_

"_I did so, Fredrick," Barty started walking down the hall. "They were quite the team, those Marauders," he turned around and grinned at Fred. "But, if you'd rather not hear about my lowly Hogwarts days, I suggest you get to sleep, Fredrick. You've had quite the night."_

_Fred dragged his tired frame to catch up with Barty, "I suppose someone's got to make sure you don't get caught."_

--

"_Did you only pick on me today because of what happened yesterday?" he whispered into his hands as he rubbed his face._

_Barty tilted Fred's chin up and shook his head slowly, "No."_

--

_Kicking his feet against the solid oak desk, Fred shrugged, "I think you need someone to talk to."_

"_I have plenty of people I can talk to," Barty huffed._

"_Then a friend," Fred said slowly. "I think you need a friend."_

_--_

"_Word travels quickly here."_

"_Yes, I heard you died saving the school from a pack of Death Eaters and Salazar Slytherin back from beyond the grave." Barty wiggled his fingers in sarcastic little waves of fear. "How brave of you, Fredrick."_

"_I should go sort that out and tell them what really happened," Fred laughed lightly. "The lie is probably more believable than the truth."_

"_Always is, Fredrick. You'll learn that soon enough."_

--

_Fred's hand found the back of Barty's head again, his fingers twirling his weathered hair. He laughed lightly, the air barely passing his lips. "This is-"_

"_Wrong?" Barty's arm wrapped around Fred's waist and pulled him closer._

"_Mhmm-"_

"_And you should leave-"_

"_Mhmm-"_

"_And this could only end poorly-"_

"_Mhmm-"_

"_So, if you know this, why are we-"_

"_I don't know, I just-"_

"_Fredrick?" Barty whispered, their foreheads leaning against each other._

_Fred smiled, his ears burning hot. "Yes, Barty?"_

--

_And in that moment, he realized; Barty had the ability to consume the entire Wizarding world into absolute darkness for years. With Voldemort rising and Barty having completed his task, Barty would have been the one responsible for the downfall of Harry Potter and whoever else would fall in Voldemort's way. The only thing that seemed to be stalling any of it was, in fact, him._

_Whether he did it for the greater good or whether he did it because he had wanted to for ages, Fred rested his chin on Barty's shoulder and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Barty."_

_--_

Fred's eyes closed before the impact, his small laugh escaping his lips just as he felt the breath forced out of him. He felt his hair in the air as he fell to the ground.

Falling, falling, falling – but never reaching the end.

Secrets are funny little things. You can keep anything secret, absolutely anything. A favourite food, a favourite song, a guilty pleasure, a name, a face, a place – all secrets. But, with every secret comes a price. Do you save your skin or someone else's? In the end, we are all equal. Pure blood, half blood, Muggle born, Squib, Muggle – all the same. One heart, one mind and a choice. A choice we all have to make at some point in our lives. To become a Death Eater or to fight with the Order? To use reason or an Unforgivable Curse? To fall in love or to stay cold?

Fred Weasley learned his lesson – the choices we make are not what define who we are; they are simply what defines us to everyone else.


End file.
